(Almost) 8 Months Out

I was thinking this morning about the transition between TTASP and choosing to live child free. You all know the “Infertility Island” metaphor right? To recap, there’s a ferry that runs between Infertility Island and the mainland, call it Motherworld. And the ferry comes, but you never know when your ticket is going to be called. You wait and wait and hope and wave goodbye to your friends and wish them well and simultaneously feel miserable that you’re not going with them.

Then one day, for whatever reason, you realize that you simply CANNOT stay one more day on the Island. Could be that you’re going crazy, could be that your spouse forces your hand, could be that you run out of funds, could be … any number of reasons. But you can’t stay. And you still can’t go to the mainland cause you don’t have a ticket for the ferry. So you jump in the water and let the current carry you where it will. And pretty soon, you wash up on another island downstream. There’s a great big jungle on the side of this island that faces infertility island that’s deep, and dark, and foreboding, and hides all the villages. But once you hack your way through the jungle, you realize that there’s a gorgeous beach and friendly neighbors with lots of tequila to share on the other side.

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Outlandish Notions is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Am I ChildLESS or ChildFREE?

This is a subject of endless debate on every relevant board or site I've visited.

I understand the power of words and desire to put a positive spin on things. Perhaps childLESS does sound a little pathetic or forlorn (and if there's one thing I hate, it's being the object of pity). I may be "less" or lacking a child, but I don't believe that means my life is any less interesting or valuable or valid than a parent's. It's just different.

But to me, childFREE isn't quite right either, because it implies that we are happy to be "free" of children, as though we consider them a burden, when nothing could be further from the truth. It does not reflect the battle we went through to try to have a very much wanted child, or our struggle in trying to decide when enough was enough and when we should stop treatment, or the struggle we've had to find new meaning in our life since then. If I am FREE of anything, it is the burden of infertility treatment!!

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Loribeth is the contributing editor for Living Child-Free after Infertility or Loss. She writes daily at The Road Less Travelled where she tells the story of her daughter as well as life after the stillbirth and infertility.

DOR and the Decision to Resolve Our Infertility as a Family of Two

I've been doing a good amount of research about my diagnosis of diminished ovarian reserve. Mostly I've found information about how it is diagnosed -- usually not as late in the game (though to be fair: we certainly, effectively, and consciously delayed our own treatment); often initially suspected following a higher-than-normal FSH test result (mine was normal); and sometimes (as it was in our case) not until it is discovered during an IVF cycle. It's true that IVF is both a treatment and a diagnostic test; however, most patients (myself included) choose not to think of it that way. So much hope -- damn blinding hope.

I'm not entirely sure how three medical doctors who specialize in reproductive endocrinology missed this diagnosis through the years we were under their care. Maybe they suspected it but, given that there was no overwhelmingly glaring evidence, decided to use the wait-and-see approach. I guess my FSH looked "normal" to them, which is sometimes the case for women with DOR. But my response to ovarian stimulation certainly wasn't within the realm of "normal" for a woman of my age and in good health. In cases like mine, as best I can tell, there are still plenty of eggs (explaining the normal-ish FSH) but those eggs are poor quality. Poor quality leading to decreased fertilization rates and, when pregnancy rarely occurs, mostly non-viable pregnancies. Those rare non-viable pregnancies often end in early miscarriage. Sometimes they end in later loss. And occasionally a real, live, healthy baby is the result. I will share more of my thoughts on this later.

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Plan B: Family of Two is a guest blogger on Bridges.

Choosing to Live Child-Free...For Whatever Reason

My husband & I set off down the road of childless/free living in the summer of 2001, after several years of trying to to conceive, both on our own & through fertility treatments, one surprise pregnancy that ended at 26 weeks in stillbirth, several rounds of Clomid, three IUI cycles using ever-increasing doses of Puregon & Gonal-F, and a prescription for Ativan to combat a sudden onset of anxiety attacks.

Blogs were practically unheard of back then -- but I did find a message board for women who were living without children, not as a first choice, that became my lifeline. The board opened my eyes to a whole new world of women who, like me, had once hoped and assumed they would be mothers, but found their lives heading in a much different direction. Together, we struggled to make sense of the new life we found ourselves leading.

There were women who, like me, had experienced infertility, loss, and even failed attempts to adopt before calling it quits and trying to move on to a different chapter in their lives.

There were some who had medical conditions that made it difficult, dangerous, or impossible for them to attempt or sustain a pregnancy, and also made them less desirable candidates as adoptive parents.

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Loribeth is the contributing editor for Living Child-Free after Loss. She writes daily at The Road Less Travelled where she tells the story of her daughter as well as life after the stillbirth and infertility.

Loribeth's Story

Loribeth is the contributing editor for Living Child-Free after Loss. She writes daily at The Road Less Travelled where she tells the story of her daughter as well as life after the stillbirth and infertility.

My husband and I got married young (and broke), right around the time that real estate in our city started to skyrocket. We wanted to be “responsible,” and so spent the first 10 years of our marriage establishing our careers, buying a house and building up some savings. We finally took the ttc plunge when I was almost 35 and he was 38.

Infertility was something I read about in magazines that happened to women with irregular periods (not a problem) and sexually transmitted diseases (ditto). I full expected to be pregnant within four to six months.

Two and a half years later, when we had all but given up hope, I finally found myself pregnant in February 1998 at age 37. Sadly, it was a rollercoaster pregnancy, and our tiny angel daughter, Katie, was stillborn on August 7, 1998, when I was 26 weeks pregnant.

We continued ttc for another year, but in the fall of 1999, with my 39^th birthday fast approaching, I convinced my husband that we should go to my ob-gyn for some tests. Maybe there was a simple reason why I wasn’t getting pregnant?

And so began our journey down the slippery slope. After the tests, we moved on to an RE, where we did several cycles on Clomid, and then (after much negotiating with my husband) three IUI cycles using injectable drugs. My third and final, unsuccessful IUI cycle ended in early June 2001, when I was 40 years old. It left me a physical and emotional wreck, worried about the physical impact these drugs were having on my health, popping Ativan for anxiety attacks, and seeking counselling.

My husband said this was the end of the road -- he wanted a baby, but not at the expense of my health. Realistically, we knew our chances of success were very slim when you factored in our ages, our lousy track record to date, his low sperm count, my wonky hormones, and my bicornuate uterus. The financial considerations were also pretty daunting.

We discussed adoption, but we knew that would mean more time and uncertainty, a lot of bureaucracy and scrutiny, and perhaps more heartbreak. It meant getting off one rollercoaster and getting onto another. I wanted a baby, but I was tired of riding rollercoasters. I wanted my life back. I knew my husband and I could have a good life together, just the two of us -- because we'd already been doing it for the past 16 years. Perhaps if we had been in our mid-30s instead of our 40s, we might have felt differently.

The infertility counselor we saw suggested that we take the summer off and focus on doing fun things together as a couple – try childfree living on for size and try to forget or avoid anything to do with infertility and then take another look at the situation and make a decision. So that's what we did. And by the end of the summer, I knew that, much as I wanted a baby, I couldn't go back to infertility treatment. We were done.

That said -- living childfree is not just a matter of saying you’ll do it and suddenly you feel better (although it was a HUGE relief not to have to deal with treatment anymore!). You can’t turn a ship on a dime, and you can’t erase the dreams and expectations of a lifetime overnight. You have to find new things to focus your time and energy on, trivial as they may seem when compared to raising a family. Some people might focus on their careers, but that’s not us.

We both work for a large financial services company in downtown Toronto – me in the corporate communications area and live in Suburbia. We volunteer for our pregnancy loss support group and dote on our two teenaged nephews. I’ve taken up yoga and scrapbooking, and early retirement within the next 10-12 years is likely do-able. Our marriage is far from perfect, but I think we are a lot closer than many other couples we know. Surviving loss and infertility was hard. We deal with it differently in some ways, and we both bear the scars, but I think that these experiences have ultimately brought us closer together.

There weren’t any or many blogs seven years ago, but I found a few message boards for women in similar situations that became a huge comfort to me. I started reading blogs a few years ago and decided to take the plunge last fall. I found reading other women’s stories to be inspiring, but there weren’t many blogs (or resources generally) for women living childfree after infertility and/or loss, and I thought I could add my voice to strengthen the choir! I’ve always found writing to be extremely cathartic -- and knew I would need an outlet, approaching the 10-year mark of our daughter’s stillbirth. Blogging has been a blessing in my life this past year, and I’m thrilled to be a part of the Bridges team.